


tell me you love me; if you don't, then lie to me

by peppermintz



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, and it took for-bleeding-ever, written over Christmas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2014-12-28
Packaged: 2018-03-04 01:47:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,946
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2904821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/peppermintz/pseuds/peppermintz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Always silly you, Doctor. But silly old Mistress, too. I became a girl who chased a boy, after all. Well, I used to be a boy who chased a boy, but that’s not to say it matters. I was supposed to make you chase me. And, of course, you did. Don’t say no, now. You did chase me; you chased me across the stars and I chased you, too, and so we went in a circle. Round and round we went, endlessly. It was a carousel, darling, at a carnival I kept pulling together to entertain you."</p>
            </blockquote>





	tell me you love me; if you don't, then lie to me

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the prompt: ' "Careful, keep having that much fun and it might actually start being good for your health." - make a (sexy) Twissy story, please? I need Twissy after 60 minutes of not-Twissy!' It turned into something really long and messy, but I liked it, nonetheless.

Everything was supposed to be completely normal after the mess of dreams Christmas was — and after he took Clara on a smaller adventure, then dropped her off at home. In all honesty, what the Doctor needed was a long nap. And he intended to take full advantage of one. 

He yawned and rubbed his eyes as he ambled back to the TARDIS. It was lucky he was standing on the snowy ground instead of a patch of ice, because, when he looked up again, he would’ve slipped and fallen on his arse from surprise. 

"God, it was about time you got back! Merry Christmas, Thete!" Missy trilled from where she sat on top of the TARDIS. A Santa hat was perched on her head, a glass in her hand, and a grin across her face. "Happy bleedin’ New Year! Want a sip?" she called out, holding out her glass.

Several emotions at once seemed to slap the Doctor in the face and he decided to settle on incredulity to start. “How the  _hell_ — “ 

"How the hell did I get up here?  _Transporter!”_  she sang, waving a device in the air that she’d tugged from her pocket. “Fixed it up m’self, after a very  _naughty_ little Doctor messed it all up. But I’m far too clever with my fingers for my own good. Wanna test ‘em out?”

"How are you  _alive_?” he yelled up to her. “Why do you think you’re bloody allowed to — to — to ruin my TARDIS — “

"Oh,  _that?_ The part about being alive? It’s a story for another night! And I’m not ruining anything, hon,” Missy said with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. “How could I be ruining anything by sitting up here? Look, if you really wanted to see me ruin it, I could shove my hand up my skirts and give you the biggest show of your life.” 

"I’m fine, thank you," the Doctor snarled. "Get off my TARDIS."

"As you wish, luvvie." Missy shrugged and picked the device back up, pressed a few buttons. 

She popped directly in front of him, making him stumble back a pace as she beamed brighter than the sun. The glass of wine had tumbled off the roof of his box. “I didn’t even give you a proper hello,” she murmured, one of her hands sliding into his hair, and he disregarded the slight shiver that went through him at that. 

Before she could drag him down for one of her teethy kisses, he snatched her shoulders and held her back. She whined in discontent. 

"Tell me how you survived this time and why you’re here," the Doctor growled.

"Always start with the hard stuff, huh? No ‘hello, my dutiful, darling girlfriend; how’ve the holidays been for you’? No dragging me under the mistletoe? Frankly, I’m getting awfully tired of your ‘scold first, make love later’ policy." Fondly, Missy reached up and brushed snow out of his hair. He rolled his eyes. 

He let her go and demanded she get inside the TARDIS. 

"It’s Christmas. Don’t get to tell me what to do today." She tapped his nose with one finger and he batted her hand away. 

"Well, I’m exercising tough love," he snapped. 

"Don’t you always? It’s getting annoying."

"Be annoyed. Get in the box."

"Jesus-louiseus,  _fine_ ,” Missy groaned, turning and starting off for the TARDIS. ”Were you taking Clara Lessons, Doctor? Learning how to act her part of control-freak?” 

"You could do with learning from her." He slammed the doors shut and leaned against them as soon as he could, folding his arms and facing her with a glower.

Missy smiled serenely and folded her hands behind her back. “Q and A session now, I imagine. Boring. Let’s go indulge in festivities, like getting drunk and having rough sex while wearing themed lingerie. With fur and red ribbons and hats and such. Well, I suppose you don’t have to wear it, but I’d  _love_ to take pictures.” 

"No. This is definitely a Q and A," the Doctor said, low and firm. "Tell me exactly how you survived."

Her smile turned into a sneer as she walked up to him and flicked his chin with two fingers. “You pressed the wrong button, stupid,” she told him. “Stupid, stupid,  _stupid_ boy you always are. You swapped lil’ old me for a Flesh copy.”

"Flesh — ?" His eyes widened. "How? Tell me how."

"Oh, if you think I could take control of an entire sodding army, don’t  _tell_  me you’re surprised I managed to find a few other bits of brilliance I wanted to use for other plans. Picked up a little somethin’-somethin’ from Trenzalore and the Church. I followed your timeline, numpty.

"And I managed to catch a glimpse of me from the back." She snickered. "If there’s some God somewhere out there, he must like me lots to give me such a spec _tac_ ular view, and not to mention — “ 

"Fine, fine. Okay," he sharply cut her off. "You’re back and you expected me to do a jig because you’re here in time for Christmas. Why’d you come here? Yes, of course, I want to know what your plan is. You’ve caught me already."

"Am I not allowed to just want to see you?" said Missy, looking hurt. "No plan this time. Should I sing it, instead?  _I don’t want a lot for Christmas; there is just one thing I need. I don’t care about the presents underneath the Christmas tree —_ ”

"Missy."

“ _I just want you for my own, more than you could ever know,_ " she sang, taking hold of his lapels and nuzzling his nose. " _Make my wish come true! Baby, all I want for Christmas is you!”_

"Forgive me if I don’t feel flattered. Get off."

"Well, I won’t forgive you. All I ever do is love you and praise you and give you presents — "

"And try to kill me and beat me and hurt my friends and demolish entire planets. That doesn’t exactly warm my hearts."

"Ugh, just like you to focus on the bad aspects."

"There are only ever bad things, Mistress," the Doctor said gently, taking her hands and removing them from his lapels. "If you want me to appreciate the things you think can make up for them, try harder, because I’m still not impressed." 

"I’m not trying to impress you, you sniveling, bony bastard," she sniffed. "I’m trying to make sure you know I sacrifice so much for you when I could’ve killed you ages ago."

"Oh, that’s hilarious. You’ve tried. You keep failing."

"You’re so wrong that it’s going to hurt my poor, gorgeous head. I do it for  _fun_.”

"Really? Over and over? On repeat? Careful, keep having that much fun and it might actually start being good for your health."

"Take your own advice, why don’t you?" Missy sighed and turned, heading off up the steps to an upper corridor. "Am I allowed to pick any bedroom?"

"What?"

"You can’t toss me out, because you’re scared I’ll hurt your precious little rats out there. And I will if you don’t let me stay." She shrugged and tilted her head to the side. "I won’t hurt your busted box, Doctor, or make serious attempts on your miserable life, but I won’t hesitate to snap the neck of the first rat who sniffs my feet."

"You’re not staying here, and that’s a promise," the Doctor said fiercely.

 ☆ +  ﾟ  . +  .ﾟ .ﾟ ｡  ﾟ   ｡ .   +ﾟ   ｡ﾟ .ﾟ ｡ ☆ * ｡ ｡   .   ｡   o   . ｡ﾟ ｡ . o ｡ *   ｡ .｡

"Could you get me a glass of water?" Missy said, petulant.

"I have so many things I’d love to get you and water isn’t one of them." 

"Take that one out of context, why don’t we?"

"No." The Doctor scrubbed a hand across his eyes. "Look, I think we need to set some ground rules."

"Sounds ridiculous to set  _ground_ rules when we’re in  _space_ ,” she remarked. Upon seeing the look on his face, she shut her mouth and looked up at the ceiling instead. 

"Number one," the Doctor began, ignoring Missy’s groan, "I’m not taking you out anywhere. No adventures, no  _dates,_ nothing. Not until I’m sure you’re not going to cause damage to half the universe.” 

"Look at me, love. I’m in kitty-printed, silky pajamas I found in that mess of a wardrobe," she said, gesturing to herself, "slightly tipsy from early, and all tucked into bed. Do you  _really_ think I look like I could do so much damage?”

"I’ve underestimated you time and time again. I’m learning from my mistakes."

"Well, I’d say it was about damn time."

"Rule number two: you’re not leaving the TARDIS at all. And you’re not to muck about with the controls, you can’t play with it, you can’t touch them — if I see you breathe on her, I’ll have to staple your fingers together."

Missy frowned and looked down at her hands. “That might ruin my manicure.” 

"Rule number three: I’m not letting you stay here because I’m planning to confess my undying love for you in a few days. I’m keeping you here because I care about the safety of the ones who matter the most to me."

"Oh, like  _who_?  _Clara_?” Missy scoffed. 

"Her and everyone else on Earth. You’re not to touch them, either."

"I told you already, I don’t  _want_  them!” she exclaimed. “Are you ignoring me  _again_? Too busy listening to the sound of own your voice to listen to anything I have to say?”

"You never want anything else." 

"Would you just  _listen_ — !”

"Goodnight, Missy!" the Doctor told her, talking over her before he slammed the bedroom door shut.

Missy snarled Gallifreyan curses after him as she glared at the door, curling her fingers into a pillow.

Fine. It was just as well. If he wasn’t going to listen, she’d just teach him the meaning of  _actions speak louder than words._

 ☆ +  ﾟ  . +  .ﾟ .ﾟ ｡  ﾟ   ｡ .   +ﾟ   ｡ﾟ .ﾟ ｡ ☆ * ｡ ｡   .   ｡   o   . ｡ﾟ ｡ . o ｡ *   ｡ .｡

The Doctor finally did get his much-deserved sleep and it was gloriously dreamless.

Pity that his waking up was far less pleasurable. 

What roused him first was a feeling of uncomfortable pressure. He shifted a little and let his bleary eyes blink open.

A pair of ice-blue ones met his the moment he did. 

The Doctor gave a loud yelp and scrambled back, shoving Missy off him. She flopped back on the mattress and began laughing so hard she was almost wheezing. 

"What the hell was that!?" he shouted. 

"Good morning, honey," she said, having dissolved into giggles instead. "I was hoping to wake you."

"Well, ten points to Slytherin," he snarled. " _Never_ do that again.”

"Bleh, blech, blah," she said, dismissive. "Could you make me breakfast, Thete? I’ve got a bit of a headache and I never have the patience for cooking."

"There’s cereal in the second kitchen," he said, pulling the blankets over his head. "You can manage that."

Missy whined and tugged the blankets off. The Doctor felt a sort of resigned, disgusted annoyance as though she was a new pet cat. 

"I’m your equal, Doctor. Your match, the only other one left in the universe, and you’re honestly going to make me eat  _cereal_  for breakfast?”

"Yep."

"Sweetheart, don’t be so rude to me. I’m your guest." She started pressing little kisses to her face and he muttered something under his breath that sounded like "go fuck yourself." 

She bit his ear and he yelped again. Missy chuckled and nuzzled his cheek with her nose. 

"If you get off me, I’ll make you breakfast," he sighed.

"Hm, I dunno…"

 ☆ +  ﾟ  . +  .ﾟ .ﾟ ｡  ﾟ   ｡ .   +ﾟ   ｡ﾟ .ﾟ ｡ ☆ * ｡ ｡   .   ｡   o   . ｡ﾟ ｡ . o ｡ *   ｡ .｡

"This doesn’t count," Missy grumbled. "They’re  _frozen_ waffles. Not real waffles.”

"Yeah, well, you’ve already given me at least seventeen reasons why I want to drown myself in maple syrup the morning, so you get frozen waffles," the Doctor replied, resting his chin in one hand while he dragged his fork through the aforementioned syrup. 

"I’m not your babysitting charge, so stop it," she said, slamming her fork on the table and glowering at him. "I didn’t want to see you so you could treat me like a disobedient child!" 

"Don’t act like it, then!" 

"I wouldn’t if you’d just pay me the respect I deserve!"

He laughed shortly. “You don’t deserve anything.”

"I am the  _Mistress_ , you unbelievable, condescending, arrogant, mindless  _twat_!” Missy yelled. The Doctor glanced at her before cutting a chunk of waffle with the side of his fork. “I deserve everything I’ve ever gotten my hands on because I strove for it; I worked and fought and grasped and dragged myself down to get what I wanted! You’re the mighty, mighty Doctor who gets what he wants because all his loyal puppy-dogs do it for him!”

"Mm. Could you pass me the butter?"

He was fairly stupid for not expecting her to overturn her plate of waffles over his head, but he still had to splutter in indignation and wipe syrup out of his eyes as she stomped away. 

☆ +  ﾟ  . +  .ﾟ .ﾟ ｡  ﾟ   ｡ .   +ﾟ   ｡ﾟ .ﾟ ｡ ☆ * ｡ ｡   .   ｡   o   . ｡ﾟ ｡ . o ｡ *   ｡ .｡

The shower was even more well-deserved than sleep had been, seeing as a gooey, sticky, crumb-y mess had wound up in his hair and that was something he absolutely could not abide by. Anything that ruined his hair was something he couldn’t abide by, and that went for every regeneration. 

He ruffled a hand through his, now clean, silver curls and mulled over circumstances. 

Missy couldn’t stay for good. That much was obvious. She’d never be his companion, no matter how hard she strived for it. And, of course, there was Clara to consider. He couldn’t have Missy aboard while he was traveling with Clara. Too dangerous. 

What was he to do with her, then? Sure, she was a pain as it was, but people’s blood would be on his hands if he offered to let her go. 

Lock her up, maybe?

… he couldn’t. 

_Why?_ a little voice buzzed in his ear. 

_I can’t lock anyone up against their will , _he argued back.

_You’ve hurt people who have done far less than her._

_She’s was the only other one left. I’m incapable of hurting her._

_Does she mean so much to you?_

_If you were the last of your kind, wouldn’t you want company?_

_You have Clara for company._

_Clara’s not a Time Lord. Clara wasn’t my childhood friend._

_Do you care so much for the one you call your friend?_

_… deep down, maybe. Somewhere. I don’t know. It’s not enough to turn into anything better._

_Why did you shiver when she ran her fingers through your hair yesterday?_

_It was an involuntary reaction._

_Why did you respond to her kiss when she first saw you?_

_… I was in a state of shock._

_Why did you kiss her in the graveyard?_

"Fuck off," he told the voice aloud. 

The shower curtain was suddenly swept back. “Such nasty language, dear.”

Yet again, the Doctor shrieked in alarm, snatching the shower curtain and yanking it back in place.

"THERE IS NO WAY YOU COULD POSSIBLY MISS THE FACT THAT I WAS IN THE SHOWER!" 

"I wanted to ask you something," said Missy, utterly unperturbed, but doing a bad job at hiding her glee. 

"You could’ve done that without sneak-peeks," he hissed at her. 

"I wanted to get your attention quicker."

"A centuries-old tradition is known as knocking! Tell me you didn’t miss that one!" 

"Eh, whatever. I. Wanna. Ask. You. Something," she said, punctuating each word with a poke to the curtain.

"What is it," he bit out. That flush creeping onto his face wasn’t from the warm water. 

"Can we go out tonight?"

"…you’re not joking."

"I found a dress I need to wear and I love it and I’m getting restless already so pleeeease can you take me dancing, Doctor?"

"Get out of my bathroom, Missy." 

"It’ll be fun!"

"Your definition of ‘fun’ involves homicide."

"Well, yours involves  _genocide_! And don’t be so dramatic; God, I wanted champagne and fancy shoes, not knives in necks.”

"I’m not taking you out on a bloody date! I told you that already!"

"Fine! I’ll just dance in the ballroom all by myself!" 

He cringed when the door banged shut and his only thought was that he was grateful the shower curtain wasn’t clear plastic. 

☆ +  ﾟ  . +  .ﾟ .ﾟ ｡  ﾟ   ｡ .   +ﾟ   ｡ﾟ .ﾟ ｡ ☆ * ｡ ｡   .   ｡   o   . ｡ﾟ ｡ . o ｡ *   ｡ .｡

The Doctor found her later in the library and she was muttering to herself, restlessly playing with a lock of hair with a book in her lap. 

Her hair looked better when it was down, he noted. It was wavy, curled at its ends, and fell halfway down her back. 

She’d changed out of the cat pajamas, too, into a pinstriped, purple, knee-length skirt and a white blouse. He’d forgotten how many clothes he’d actually collected over the years — all leftovers from companions and others in cases of emergency. If he ever had the desire to wear a skirt in emergencies, that was. 

She was wearing glasses, too. Large, black-rimmed reading glasses. 

_You think she’s cute,_ remarked the little voice. 

He was disgusted by that thought and shooed Little Voice away. 

After he walked over to the sofa she was sitting on, he asked her what she was reading.

"I didn’t think you’d care," Missy said, sounding a bit haughty. 

"Don’t," the Doctor sighed. "You honestly don’t have a single reason to be sulky — "

"You take every one of them out somewhere when they ask," she said, and it took him aback that she sounded genuinely hurt. "But not me. I’m the only other one of your species left and you still don’t treat me like I’m more important than any of them."

"Unlike you, I don’t judge on species."

"I’m your friend, Thete." She finally looked up at him as her voice wavered. "It shouldn’t matter. I should be important no matter what. I held your hand at the Academy when everyone else threw stones. We ran together. We played games only we understood and we  _dreamed_ together. After years of trying to break each other down, you  _owe_ me a dance.” 

The Doctor bit his lip and glanced down at his shoes. Little Voice was probably waiting with baited breath for his answer.

"Why do I owe you anything?" he asked, looking back up. "You dropped waffles on my head."

"And you deserved it."

He pinched the bridge of his nose and closed his eyes for a moment. 

"Okay. Alright. You want to dance, don’t you?"

"Yes," Missy said, breath catching. 

“Be at the ballroom in four hours exactly and, if you’re late, the deal’s off.” 

She had stars in her eyes when she told him she’d trip him up on being the first one there, and Little Voice was beating him about the head while he left the library. He shoved it down and shut it up. 

☆ +  ﾟ  . +  .ﾟ .ﾟ ｡  ﾟ   ｡ .   +ﾟ   ｡ﾟ .ﾟ ｡ ☆ * ｡ ｡   .   ｡   o   . ｡ﾟ ｡ . o ｡ *   ｡ .｡

The rest of the day, he waited, and he didn’t know why he was impatient. 

☆ +  ﾟ  . +  .ﾟ .ﾟ ｡  ﾟ   ｡ .   +ﾟ   ｡ﾟ .ﾟ ｡ ☆ * ｡ ｡   .   ｡   o   . ｡ﾟ ｡ . o ｡ *   ｡ .｡

He didn’t  _want_ to wear a bowtie, but the necktie looked awkward with the cut of the suit. At least he wasn’t wearing a hat. 

Missy _had_  gotten there first; she was waiting at the door to the ballroom and smirking. “Thought I was lying? Well, actually, I couldn’t blame you if you thought that. Habits, habits.” 

_How does she look?_ asked Little Voice. 

_She looks… fine._

_More than fine?_

_No._

_Liar._

"Well," he said, shrugging and fiddling with his cuffs. "After you."

"At last, you’ve learned to be a gentleman." She gave him a tiny wave and a grin before flinging the ballroom doors open. 

The room itself was, indeed, a beautiful sight to behold. One night, some regenerations ago, he marathoned Disney movies and had an overwhelming desire for a ballroom and asked Sarah Jane to test it out with him. She was the first. Then it collected dust before Rose took his hand; River was the next and his eleventh self danced countless times with her. 

Missy was, apparently, the next. 

Because she was being placated, of course. No, she was  _not_ special. She was, after all, just a friend. 

That’s all she ever was. It’s all he ever told anyone. 

_Well, a friend._

_We ran together._

But a friend  _once._ She wasn’t even a friend anymore. 

_So who is she?_ Little Voice asked. 

_Doesn’t matter._

"How come I’ve never been in here?" asked Missy, sounding irked as she gazed around. 

"You never asked and I never offered." The Doctor, almost gingerly, took her silk-gloved hand and led her to the middle of the floor, directly under the biggest chandelier. 

"You’ve never been so gentle with me, have you?" she murmured as he placed his hand on her waist and used his other to pull his screwdriver from his pocket. He chose not to answer her as he chose a setting, the hum not quite echoing off the walls, and a quiet waltz began to fill the room instead. 

"Hopeless, disgusting romantic, you are," Missy commented, a disturbingly gentle grin on her face. "Are you getting sweet on me, Doctor, even as the grumpy, stuffy owl you’ve turned into?"

"An owl?"

"Yup. Ruffly feathers. And you look all wise and mature and lived-in — so much better than the  _last_ time I saw you. You were an itty-bitty puppy who cried all the time. You’re so much more fun this round.” 

"I didn’t know you were judging."

"Don’t be stupid. I always do."

"Ah, silly me," he mumbled. 

"Always silly you, Doctor. But silly old Mistress, too," said Missy, resting her head on his chest. His hearts stuttered for half a second.

"What do you mean by that?" he whispered. It would be too loud if he hadn’t. 

"I became a girl who chased a boy, after all. Well, I used to be a boy who chased a boy, but that’s not to say it matters." Her hair tickled his face. "My name isn’t supposed to mean that. I was supposed to make you chase me. And, of course, you did. Don’t say no, now."

He wasn’t going to, anyway.

"You did chase me," she continued, "you chased me across the stars and I chased you, too, and so we went in a circle. Round and round we went, endlessly. It was a carousel, darling, at a carnival I kept pulling together to entertain you."

"And I loved to play the games," he replied, catching on to her words. 

"You lived for them. Humanity — they all have their fixes. Addictions. Sex and alcohol and drugs and money; shit that can’t ever matter in the end when you’ve withered yourself away and wasted what little potential you could have. But you remember what our people had, Doctor?"

"Mental tricks." 

"Oh, yes, they did," she purred. "You still have it. You’ve always had it. If I give you a puzzle, you bask in it. It’s the Gallifreyan equivalent of having a drink and getting into bed with the one you’ve been wanting for months. Another door opened is like finally getting her clothes off. Another number falls into place and it’s kissing her again, hard enough to scrub the lipstick from her lips and really taste her."

He had to lick his lips before saying, “Do you think so?”

“ _Yes._  Another piece falls into place and you’re so close and it’s like her mouth is on you, tongue working in that way that makes you want to cry. You find out you’re wrong and that’s when she takes her mouth off you. You rework your strategy and, oh, that’s it, right there, that’s the right answer and she’s on top of you, fucking you within an inch of your life, Doctor. You’ve almost got it completely worked out and just a little more and it suddenly snaps, oh, God, you were right all along, and she’s shuddering and crying out over you, whimpering  _Thete, Thete_ and you’ve got a plan and you realise you were such a genius after all and you follow after her, moaning  _Koschei_ …” 

The waltz had ended a minute ago and he couldn’t even breathe as he stared at her, feeling entirely too warm. 

"I — I didn’t — "

"You didn’t  _what_ , Doctor?” Her voice was below a whisper. 

He took a shuddering breath. “I… I’m not …”

"Tell me. Tell your Mistress, Doctor."

Little Voice was dead quiet and so were the Doctor’s thoughts. His hand lifted from her waist to her cheek and he made a little whimpering noise in the back of his throat as he brought her lips to his. 

He kissed her once. Twice. It was longer the third time, and on the fourth time, his hands were buried in her hair and she was gripping his jacket lapels for dear life. 

He didn’t care about games or carnivals or dances or  _thinking._ He wanted — he just  _wanted._ She moaned into his mouth and heat cracked down his spine like a whip. Her tiny hands were on his shirt buttons. He broke away from her lips and began nipping his way down her neck in order to catch a few snatches of breath in between. 

"Down, down, a little further — that’s it," she gasped when he sucked a mark onto her skin. "God,  _yes._ ”

Yes, yes, yes. He hitched her dress up to grip her bare waist when she kissed him again. She flicked the button on his trousers open and her hand pushed its way past the waist of his pants. 

His head nearly ached at the burst of pleasure. Choking down a groan, he broke the kiss to drop his head to her shoulder. 

"Do you know how long I’ve wanted to see the way you like to be touched?" she said breathlessly. She stroked his slit and he grasped her hair for something to hang onto. "I deserve this more than you know."

_No._

No, no, no, of course not, no. Shakily, he pulled her hand off and shoved her away. 

"Doctor," she said, sounding offended. "You’re doing this all wrong."

"No.  _You_  were doing this all wrong,” he informed her, fingers fumbling on his buttons. “I brought you here so you wouldn’t bother me for the rest of the night. Not to take advantage of me.” 

"You kissed me!" Missy said, voice rising. 

"You influenced me! You threw something into my head to make me do that!"

"Oh, did I? Well, that erection has nothing to do with me," she snapped, folding her arms across her chest. "I mean, technically, I admit, yes, it does, but there’s nothing I could insert in that overly-large head that’ll shoot straight down to your pretty little cock." 

The Doctor felt himself blush to the tips of his ears. “It’s a simple physical reaction.”

"Because you want to have sex with me."

"I bloody well do not!" 

"That’s not what  _he’s_ saying down there.” 

"Thanks for the  _dance_.” He ripped the bowtie off and stuffed it in his pocket as he stalked off. 

"You’re  _welcome_!” she yelled after him. “You need to get laid, you know! Then maybe you wouldn’t be so goddamn cranky!”  

☆ +  ﾟ  . +  .ﾟ .ﾟ ｡  ﾟ   ｡ .   +ﾟ   ｡ﾟ .ﾟ ｡ ☆ * ｡ ｡   .   ｡   o   . ｡ﾟ ｡ . o ｡ *   ｡ .｡

He had to do something about her. Or they had to reach a compromise. 

The Doctor stuffed his face into a pillow and groaned. Catastrophes and Missy were constantly linked arm-in-arm and he didn’t know how to avoid them. 

The only time they weren’t fighting was when … when he didn’t pick one with her. She hadn’t even seem like she’d wanted to. Not at first. 

What had she said? That she wanted to spend time with him and didn’t care about humans? Yes. 

Why? 

He was too annoyed with the day’s events to think about it. He pulled his sheets tightly as he could around himself and tried to shut his mind off enough to rest. 

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He woke up to Missy curled up next to him instead of on top of him, and it was far calmer. 

She was sleeping next to him — she must have sneaked in during the night (or night relative to the TARDIS) — and she was wearing polka-dot pajamas. 

She looked even nicer when her hair was down while she was asleep. She was serene. It was a state he never thought could be placed on her.

The Doctor hushed Little Voice before it could speak as he carefully brushed Missy’s hair back from her face. 

When she did wake up a moment later, she interrogated him on whether or not he had voluntarily been touching her and the argument went on for eight minutes. He timed it.

☆ +  ﾟ  . +  .ﾟ .ﾟ ｡  ﾟ   ｡ .   +ﾟ   ｡ﾟ .ﾟ ｡ ☆ * ｡ ｡   .   ｡   o   . ｡ﾟ ｡ . o ｡ *   ｡ .｡

He made her promise, with the fingers on her right hand splayed so they touched both her hearts, that dancing was a possibility if she didn’t try to speak to him the way she had yesterday. She grumbled about how it wasn’t her fault, but she complied. 

It ended up… well. It ended up fine. 

The song ended and they slowed to a stop after he spun her on the spot and she looked at him so fondly it scared him. Because he liked it. 

He asked her what she was waiting for when she gave him beseeching eyes, and she got huffy and said he was playing ‘hard to get’, a phrase he’d never fully understood. 

"Will you take me to dinner first next time?" she asked. 

"These aren’t dates," the Doctor firmly reminded her. 

"Yeah, but we still need  _food,_ moron. Dinner and dancing can be as platonic as you want.”

"You won’t try at it, though."

She laughed. “I’m not the one who’s not trying, hon. Nighty-night.”

She left him on the ballroom floor feeling confused and strangely empty. 

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The third night, she kissed him. 

It wasn’t rough or needy or gasping, either. It was soft and he felt like he was still in the graveyard. 

"Well?" She raised an eyebrow at him. 

"W-what?"

"Aren’t you gonna scream or push me away or rant at me? Curse my name? Go on about how disgusting my very existence is?"

"No."

"… so, you finally admit you like kissing me?"

"I don’t hate it."

"Can I do it again, then?"

"… not now." 

"I can be patient."

"Good." 

☆ +  ﾟ  . +  .ﾟ .ﾟ ｡  ﾟ   ｡ .   +ﾟ   ｡ﾟ .ﾟ ｡ ☆ * ｡ ｡   .   ｡   o   . ｡ﾟ ｡ . o ｡ *   ｡ .｡

"What did you mean the other day?" the Doctor asked her as she sat on a countertop in the first kitchen, busying herself with a plate of biscuits and a book. 

"I’ll have to get specifics, dearest," Missy said through her mouthful of chocolate. She’d only ever eat biscuits with chocolate in them now, apparently. 

"About how you don’t want a planet this time. You wanted… me, instead."

"Oh, caught on, didn’t you? I tried to tell you before and now I feel partial to stabbing your eyes out with cooking utensils."

"Let’s skip that. Tell me what you meant." 

"For such a smart boy, you’re so dumb it makes me rather sad sometimes." Missy turned a page of the book. "I. Wanted. You. I wanted to just be next to you again. Once, before you remembered you didn’t want me."

"Oh." What an interesting floor to look at. 

"I wanted a dance. You’ve never danced with me before." 

"Amissa Caritate," the Doctor murmured.

She looked up. “What?”

"I took you there. Illegally, because I was meant to be on trial the next day, but I took you out for a dance. We went to Amissa Caritate. I kissed you, didn’t I?"

"You did it badly, but, yes," said Missy, staring at the ceiling and recalling. "I kissed you back."

"So, I’ve danced with you before."

"That was when you loved me." 

The Doctor twiddled his thumbs. “Yes.”

"Do you still love me, Doctor?"

She asked it so innocently, as though she’d been asking for a glass of milk for her biscuits.

He thought for a moment. “What kind of love do you mean?”

"There’s only one kind of love, idiot," Missy said harshly. "Unconditional, if  _you_ were looking for specifics, now.”

"There’s obsessive, platonic, romantic, and unconditional love, to name a few."

"Fine! Which one applies to me?"

"I don’t know yet," he said honestly. 

"Go figure it out." She took her biscuits and book and left the kitchen.

Normally, he loved thinking in-depth about certain subjects, but this one just made his head hurt. 

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The fourth night, he told her, “I’m sure you remember the Greeks had four types of love.”

"A lot of them were fuckin’ idiots, too. They worshiped hundreds of gods that supposedly lived on top of a hill and no one even bothered to climb it and check. Lazy bastards."

"Good point, but they were right on these." 

When he dipped her after speaking, she smiled as she always did. It pinched his hearts hard to know that she trusted him enough here to let her nearly fall. 

"There’s Storge, first of all. Affection, usually between family members, but very good friends, too. It’s a little deeper than Philia, which is purely platonic friendship."

"Mmhm…"

"And Eros, which is, um, romantic and sexual," the Doctor muttered. "Agape is unconditional love."

"Yep. Fascinating, honey. I don’t know why you’re educating me or think I care in the slightest."

"You asked me if I still loved you."

"… yes."

"I tried to sort it into a category, and I finally understood which one it was."

"Did you?" Missy said, sounding eager.

"It’s none of them. Not yet. It’s come the closest to Eros, but not even that."

She was quiet and remained that way as their waltz ended. As was he. 

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Did he love her, though? In any way? At all?

There was no denying he felt  _something_ for her. But it wasn’t a sodding crush or anything because he was almost two-thousand years old, thank you very much. 

Wasn’t that what he told himself about River Song?

The Doctor was getting pretty tired of emotional fits before bed. Maybe being humanoid wasn’t a good idea. 

Maybe becoming a Cyberman was a good idea. 

He heard his bedroom door creak open and he shut his eyes. 

"Why are you sleeping so much all of a sudden?" Missy said quietly. "Are you avoiding me? I don’t like it."

_I’m not avoiding you. I’m avoiding me._

"You hate sleeping. Not as much as me, though." He could feel the mattress indent when she sat next to him on the bed. He almost forgot to breathe slowly and softly when she stroked her fingers through his hair. "I only sleep when you’re next to me.

"The drums are gone, you know. They have been for a long time. And I thought I was free and I cried. And then I cried some more and I couldn’t stop crying because nothing was pounding at my head, but there was too much thought. Doors opening and slamming shut, people talking, yelling, all the time, banging against the insides of my brain and it hurt so badly, Doctor," she whimpered.

"What is it like for you? You’re mad, everyone knows that, but you can’t even begin to understand how I feel. What it’s like. You want distraction, but I  _need_ distraction or I’ll scratch and tear enough to get into my head and make it  _stop._ ”

The overwhelming pity he had for her felt like a weight dropped on his chest. 

"And you think you’re too good to even look at me," she said bitterly. "You think I’m pathetic. A disappointing punchline to a joke. Well, guess what? I’m the punchline to your joke."

He wished she would just go to sleep. 

"I want to hate you so much sometimes. And there are definitely times where I think I do. But it’s the same for you, too."

_Ugh._

"And sometimes I like to think about what I could be to you. I could be your girlfriend, easily. Maybe I could be your wife. How about that, eh? Someone to welcome you with a kiss on the cheek every day? Someone who’ll say ‘come here, dear, your collar’s crooked and you really must button that jacket’? But you’re so scared of commitment that you probably scream at the sight of a wedding ring, so, perhaps not." 

_You dream too much. Take sleeping pills next time._

"I could still be your archenemy, I guess. That’s good enough for me. At least that’s still fun." He heard fabric rustle and the mattress sank down further. She must’ve finally settled down next to him.  

"Play games with me again, Doctor. Don’t think about stupid things like love."

It was the last thing she said to him that night, and the last thing he thought was  _I wish I didn’t._

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The fifth night went without too much of note. As did the sixth, seventh and eighth. 

The ninth night, he told her he would allow her one trip and she slapped him across the face and said she was incredibly cross that he didn’t say so sooner, then she grabbed his collar and snogged him until he was weak-kneed. 

_You really liked that,_ Little Voice piped up as he left. 

With an impish grin, he told it to sod off. 

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"Let go of the sides, you absolute creampuff! It’s embarrassing to know you!"

"It’s less chilly over here!" the Doctor called back, knuckles nearly white as he clung to one of the walls enclosing the ice rink. "I’ll get cold if I go out there! So I’d like to stay where I am if that’s alright with you."

"Well, it’s  _not_  alright with me!” Missy skated her way over to him, the ends of her snow-white scarf fluttering behind her. He eyed her warily as she came closer. 

"Come on, love. Don’t be scared. I’ll hold your hand."

"I’d rather spend time with the wall."

"No, you wouldn’t. Don’t be so silly. Let me  _show_  you, Doctor.” She pulled one of his hands off the wall and he flailed a little before his second hand got a firmer grip. 

He shook his head wordlessly. 

"Please? You promised to take me somewhere," Missy said, doe-eyed, "and I want you to enjoy it as much as me."

"Sweet of you. But no, thanks." 

She gave a martyred sigh and tugged him away from the wall. He made a sound of alarm and skidded until she grabbed his shoulders and steadied him. 

"You’re really, really,  _really_ witless and about as quick on your feet as a blind lamb. Let me help you.”

"Yes, Mistress," he grumbled, glaring at the ice. 

"Now, follow my lead," she said. "Learn from the professional."

"When did you become a professional ice-skater?" She did look it, though: she was dressed completely in white with silver snowflakes sewn into her stockings, skirt, and skates. Her hair was curly again and pulled up into a knot atop her head. Her earmuffs were fuzzy and sparkly and, altogether, she must have forgotten that she looked almost his physical age and dressed about twenty years younger. 

_You think she’s cute now, don’t you?_

_I think she’s cute._

"Sometimes, I have a life outside of you," she sniffed at his comment. 

☆ +  ﾟ  . +  .ﾟ .ﾟ ｡  ﾟ   ｡ .   +ﾟ   ｡ﾟ .ﾟ ｡ ☆ * ｡ ｡   .   ｡   o   . ｡ﾟ ｡ . o ｡ *   ｡ .｡

The tenth night, he kissed her forehead and told her he appreciated the fact that she was patient for once in her long, long life. 

She said she was far more patient than he’d ever know. 

He chuckled. “I’m sure.”

"No, you’re not. You don’t know what I mean at all." She looked disappointed and rather frustrated. "And you’re not gonna know until you know it." 

He blinked at her. 

"That makes a lot of sense."

"It will, once you figure it out."

"Couldn’t you tell me what you’re waiting for?"

"No. That’ll ruin it." 

☆ +  ﾟ  . +  .ﾟ .ﾟ ｡  ﾟ   ｡ .   +ﾟ   ｡ﾟ .ﾟ ｡ ☆ * ｡ ｡   .   ｡   o   . ｡ﾟ ｡ . o ｡ *   ｡ .｡

It was the eleventh night and the motions were as familiar as worn-out shoes. When the song ended, he held her. 

Missy stood on her tiptoes and brushed a kiss over his neck and his hearts paused for a moment. 

The Doctor tilted her head up and brushed a kiss over her lips. 

☆ +  ﾟ  . +  .ﾟ .ﾟ ｡  ﾟ   ｡ .   +ﾟ   ｡ﾟ .ﾟ ｡ ☆ * ｡ ｡   .   ｡   o   . ｡ﾟ ｡ . o ｡ *   ｡ .｡

_Memento olim cum essem tua et cæci essetis. Ignis coruscarent in oculis meis. Dic ergo tu. Si non, ergo me mentiri._

_Eros._

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"So you  _did_ want to have sex with me,” Missy said, managing to sound smug and exhausted at the same time. 

"Fuck off."

She started laughing and he joined in after a moment, his hearts feeling lighter than they had in years. 

☆ +  ﾟ  . +  .ﾟ .ﾟ ｡  ﾟ   ｡ .   +ﾟ   ｡ﾟ .ﾟ ｡ ☆ * ｡ ｡   .   ｡   o   . ｡ﾟ ｡ . o ｡ *   ｡ .｡

"I might have figured it out," the Doctor said, stroking his thumb over her cheek. "What you were waiting for."

"Have you?" Missy had a lazy smile on her face. "I figured you would."

"You were waiting for me to have sex with you." He shrugged. "I don’t know why I didn’t think of that sooner." 

There was a moment of silence because she smacked his hand away from her face and made a sound of indignation. “You  _idiot_!  _No,_ that’s absolutely  _not_ it!” 

He frowned. “What else is it?”

"I was waiting for you to sort out your convoluted, horrendous mess of emotions! I wanted you to figure out which one of your fucking pretentious, pretty, little Greek-isms would fit with me in terms of so-called  _love_ _!”_

_“_ You were waiting for me to say how much I _love_ you?” he asked in disbelief. 

She smacked him on the head. He said the word “ow” and it was drowned out by her voice. 

"There’s a reason I asked about a week ago, you  _dimwit._ Did you figure it out yet? Did it click when you came so hard you shrieked?”

"Exaggeration," he scoffed. 

"Don’t you dare. Tell me if you figured it out — "

"Who says I love you to begin with?" he said, sounding far too defensive as he shifted to a sitting position. 

"Who says you don’t? You’re not denying it, are you?"

"Yes! I mean, no." He shook his head. "There’s not a right answer to that. It’s a trick question."

"The  _right answer_ is you telling me what kind of love you’ve fallen into!”

"Who says I’ve fallen into anything!?"

"Me! I’m saying it, Doctor!" yelled Missy. "It’s obvious you feel  _something_ for me, and I don’t know what it is, and I WANT TO KNOW!” 

"I DON’T KNOW WHAT YOU WANT ME TO SAY!"  

Seething, she grabbed a fistful of his hair and dragged him closer to her. He swore in pain. 

"Tell me you love me, Doctor," she hissed, in Gallifreyan this time. "I need to hear you say it. It’s some type of love. Which. One. Is. It."

"I. Don’t. Know," he hissed back. 

"So you admit you feel something for me," she said, eyes lighting up triumphantly. 

He opened his mouth and closed it again, feeling his face heat up. 

"So which one is it, honey? Tell Missy. Tell your Mistress."

"If I have to tell you ‘I don’t know’ one more time, I swear to God I’ll burn your brains out."

"I’d normally love for you to get kinky, but now is not the time. Doctor, you can figure it out. You’re  _you._ You know it somewhere. Does the Doctor want to fuck the Mistress, or does Thete want to make love to Koschei?” 

"I…" The Doctor swallowed thickly. "Missy, before you tear my scalp out, I’m going to tell you something," he said slowly. 

"Okay…" She narrowed her eyes.

"I’m not sure which one it is. Sometimes it’s both. Most of the time, it’s both. Sometimes, it’s either-or." He reached up and untangled her hands from his hair. "How do you feel about me, though?"

"What?" 

He smirked. “There it is. Love goes both ways if you’re going to really call it love. Now, does the Mistress want the Doctor to be in love with her, or does Koschei still love Thete?”

Missy blinked, her lips parted in a cutting reply that never rolled off her tongue. He chuckled and kissed her gently before getting off the bed. 

"Sleep on it, maybe," the Doctor offered as he collected his clothes off the floor. "Once you have an answer for me, I’ll have one for you." 

As he left her bedroom, he felt he had the upper hand for the first time in days. 

☆ +  ﾟ  . +  .ﾟ .ﾟ ｡  ﾟ   ｡ .   +ﾟ   ｡ﾟ .ﾟ ｡ ☆ * ｡ ｡   .   ｡   o   . ｡ﾟ ｡ . o ｡ *   ｡ .｡

He was actually sleeping peacefully this time until he was  _slapped_ awake. 

"I figured it out!" Missy said brightly. "Wake up, Doctor! I finally figured it out, so wake up, shut up, and listen!"

"Was that entirely necessary?" he said, rubbing his cheek.

"Yes. Listen to meeee," she begged, tugging at the shoulder of his pajama top. 

"I’m listening," he grumbled, sitting up. She pulled her knees to her chest, looking like a child on Christmas morning. 

"I love you," she said, like it was obvious, "and that’s all there is to it. I’ve always loved you. And both kinds you were talking about, too — lusty, dirty, sexy love as well as hand-holding, itty-bitty-kisses, hair-stroking love. It’s not either-or, is it? So now you have to tell me how you feel, ‘cause I win." 

"Love’s not about winning."

"I know that, dumbo, but at least I sorted my shit out before you did." 

"… fine. Alright." The Doctor yawned and ruffled a hand through his hair (he’d grown to notice that, whenever he had his fingers in his hair, her pupils blew up to twice their size). 

"There are times," he said quietly, gazing at the mattress, "where I feel like — like I really love you. When you danced with me the last time, I felt like that. When you kept me from falling when I took you ice-skating. And, um," he shrugged, "I fell anyway, I suppose.

"I don’t feel that way all the time, though. I’ll look at you and think of everything you’ve done to me and the people who were and are important to me. You have centuries of blood on your hands, under your fingernails. Those times when I look at you, I still see it. 

"Sometimes I see you as Koschei. Sometimes I see you as the Mistress. It’s hard to love you," he told her, taking her hand and tracing Gallifreyan over the back of her palm. 

"But you still love me, don’t you?" 

"… yes," he finally admitted. 

"And what kind of love is it?"

"Every kind."

"And  _that’s_ what I was waiting for.” Missy leaned forward and pressed her lips against his. As he kissed her back, he felt there was some tiny lie at the back of his throat. Perhaps he could ignore it. 

☆ +  ﾟ  . +  .ﾟ .ﾟ ｡  ﾟ   ｡ .   +ﾟ   ｡ﾟ .ﾟ ｡ ☆ * ｡ ｡   .   ｡   o   . ｡ﾟ ｡ . o ｡ *   ｡ .｡

It was after the twenty-fifth night.

The Doctor asked Clara over the phone if she wouldn’t mind traveling with a third, official passenger aboard the TARDIS. 


End file.
